Page 4 of Zeppelin (Satan’s Angels MC #9)

“Hey.” I don’t know what the hell voice is that? I’ve never heard that tone from myself before. It’s soft. Coaxing. So gentle.

“Are you really sick, Ginny, or what’s going on?”

She hangs her head, swallowing convulsively and then she sniffles.

She’s sweating furiously. Her skin throws off furious heat through her dress.

Her hand flexes at my hip, but she hangs on, still needing to be steadied.

I want to brush back the sticky strands of hair from her forehead, but that would be far too intimate, so I don’t.

I would never get close to another person like this.

I’ve fucked plenty of women, but there’s fucking and then there’s everything else, and it’s everything else that I don’t do.

The club women—what some clubs call biker bitches or hang-arounds—know what they want.

They want pleasure and they want to give pleasure.

They don’t need cuddling or platitudes after or even during.

“God.” Ginny digs her fingers into her eyes. “I don’t know what I want. I- I just found out about this. Right before… it happened.” She hangs her head.

She just told me what I wanted to know, and even though a strange electric thrill shoots through me at knowing that there is something of my brother still left on this earth, seeing Ginny’s obvious misery hurts in ways I don’t understand.

It’s a punch to my gut, a reminder of all those childhood days where I’d be hungry for a dinner that we never got to eat, how my belly seemed to fold in on itself at night, making sleep nearly impossible.

I want to swear out loud, on my life, that this child will never go hungry.

They’ll never know the pain of being forgotten.

They’ll never be scared or uncertain or unloved .

I choke that back and stay quiet. Filling the silence, like I usually do, with idiotic words and gestures that I don’t even mean, like I do with the guys, isn’t an option here.

I don’t trust myself to say the sensitive, heartbreaking things that I’m thinking.

“My family does have me,” Ginny reiterates in a small, lost whimper. “Although, this is the second time around they’ll have to look after a pregnant daughter. I- it’s different for me. I was never with Jack.”

“Did Jack know?” I know he didn’t, but I have to know he didn’t.

She shakes her head. “I was still trying to figure out how to tell him. I was going to tell him, though.” I can’t read anything from her face, even now that she’s lowered her hand.

There are far too many emotions there. I guess that she still looks miserable above everything else.

Uncertain. Sick. Sad . “Even though we weren’t in a relationship, he deserved to be given the chance to be a dad if he wanted to be.

We could have been some kind of coparents.

” She heaves in a shuddering breath and lets it out slowly before flicking her eyes to my face, pinning me in place.

“I’m not looking for a step-in baby daddy. ”

“I’m not looking to be one,” I choke back in response.

There’s a line. Isn’t there?

God knows Jack and I gave each other a bunch of tough love and being in a club full of rough around the edges men from all walks of life isn’t for the faint of heart, even here.

Maybe that’s why I’ve never dated anyone properly.

I might be capable of giving intimacy, maybe in some alternate universe I’d even be capable of love, but receiving it? That seems far harder than giving.

As Ginny softens in my arms, going almost ragdoll limp now that she admitted the truth, something sparks in my chest. A flicker of life igniting something hot. Ginny is strong. She’s vivacious, lively, kind, funny, and full of life. I know all of that even though I barely know her.

She’d intrinsically know how to love a baby.

She lifts her head like I’ve spoken out loud, but I didn’t say a thing.

Her throat works with a hard swallow and she blinks hard at whatever it is she’s about to say.

“Most people wait three months before they tell anyone that they’re expecting, but even that isn’t a guarantee.

I want this baby so badly, but nature isn’t always…

it doesn’t… it doesn’t always work out. I’m not going to tell a soul, even my family, until I’m that far along.

I’d appreciate it if you’d respect my wishes and my privacy.

I’ll reassess the situation at that time. ”

I can’t help it. I slow blink as I process that.

Every single choice that she’s going to make during this time and all the time coming is hers by right.

It’s her body. I shouldn’t interfere. “I think you should tell your family. If something happens, you’d be alone in it and that’s not healthy for anyone. ”

She gives me a look, and doesn’t tell me that I’ve overstepped, but I feel as though I have.

Fuck knows no one should be taking advice from me, especially not on babies.

Children. My god, is this happening? Is it real?

Thinking about Jack having a child that he’ll never see brings on a fresh wave of pain so acute that I nearly double over.

“I- maybe- but… I don’t know. It’s not that I’m scared to tell them. They’ll support me in anything I want to do, and they’ll always love me no matter what.”

“Whatever you do, you’ll look after yourself?”

“I will.” She twists in my arms, looking up at me with an expression that nearly breaks a heart I didn’t know could feel anything even close.

She looks at me like she sees me. Not the way Jack did, different, but somehow just as deep.

Like she can see all the way down to the lonely heartsick existence that I’m going to have to learn how to live now that my twin is gone.

“This isn’t about me today,” she says. She’s so close and seems fragile.

The top of her head barely comes up to my chin.

“I’m sorry for your loss. Truly . You were there with Jack right from the first.” I was wrong.

She can’t see straight through me. She sees down deep into me, to the truth that I haven’t even comprehended for myself.

“You’re right. I can’t comprehend a loss like that.

Would you like me to help you find someone to talk to?

Twin grief support groups online or a therapist in person? ”

“I can look them up. Thanks.”

“Zep?”

“ Zeppelin .” Why do I feel like a douchebag for correcting her?

“My parents have a lot of land. There’s an old farmhouse on one of their sections.

I’ve been thinking about it for years. Fixing it up and one day living there.

It belonged to my grandpa’s mom. She was born in there, and all her brothers and sisters too.

My grandpa didn’t have the heart to tear it down after she passed, and my dad grew up helping his dad maintain the house and the yard.

It’s been a dream of mine to fix it up and live there.

” She drops her eyes down to the ground.

I want to tell her that she’s crazy, but for once, I keep my asshole comments to myself in deference of her feelings. She’s only gone shy suddenly because this is important to her. Who am I to shit all over that?

Who am I that I’m even thinking these things?

“You tell me when and where and I’ll be there.”

I’m pretty sure we both look surprised as fuck at that.

“What about work? And your club stuff?”

“I’ll get them to—”

“No.” She shakes her head, some of her sister’s signature stubbornness making itself known in the set of her jaw and the way she purses her lips.

The slightest pink appears in her cheeks in stark relief against her pale skin.

“If and when I tell my parents and ask about the house and they give me the okay to live there, it’s just you.

I don’t want anyone else involved. My brother and dad will insist that they help, but they’ll be busy with farming.

My mom and I do markets, and we’ll also be busy getting the garden ready and baking and whatever.

Sewing. Crafting. Anyway. You want to help me?

That’s the way you can help me. But just you. ”

Why not the club? Why not Carver and her sister? Maybe she’d be okay with them helping out. But why not everyone? “Just me,” I tell her, even though I still have no idea why.

Maybe she’ll change her mind.

Maybe she’ll decide living in the middle of nowhere in a house that’s five million years old without any modern conveniences, is little better than living in a cave, and she’ll change her mind.

“It will be an exercise in sheer frustration and exhaustion. You could possibly use that.” She detaches herself slowly, breaking away from me to stand on her own two feet.

She looks strong enough to do that now. Determined.

Shining with an inner light and excitement that my body registers before my brain does.

There’s a split second where my reason doesn’t catch up and my cock reacts, twitching in my jeans.

My brain slams back into gear, and I want to punch myself for that errant rush of blood flow.

I can never think of this woman that way. It would be wrong on every level and would only complicate anything. If she decides to let me be part of this baby’s life, I can’t do anything to jeopardize that.

She was never truly Jack’s woman, but in my head, she always will be, and that pact still stands, even if he’s not here.

Never the same woman.

Our brotherhood, our friendship, our bond above everything else.

I shake my head, hoping to hell that she can’t tell what I’m thinking. “I probably could.”

“Or take up boxing or mixed martial arts. I heard that’s a great way to reduce excess energy and testosterone. It requires discipline.”

“Getting my ass kicked in the gym would probably be a lesson in humility. You think I need that?”

She rolls her eyes, but not unkindly. Ginny’s witty, but she’d never use her brainpower to make someone else feel small. I’m just guessing. I don’t know. But that’s the vibe I get.

“You’ll consider what I asked? And you’ll call if you need anything?”

“Those are two separate questions.” I don’t respond.

Neither does she. We remain in the silent standoff for a few minutes.

Somehow, it’s not uncomfortable. “My answer isn’t no,” she finally says, choosing her words carefully.

My heart still races. I’m unaccustomed to hope like this.

To feeling anything like this. “I just need some time to process all of this. I- I just found out, and then Jack was gone. It’s been a week of hell, trying to come to terms with that.

Tonight is supposed to be about closure, but everyone’s lives have still changed.

I need to put myself back together. I need to figure out how I’m going to do this.

You’re right about one thing. Jack would have loved for you to be a part of this baby’s life.

So to that, in some capacity, it’s a yes.

I just need to figure out what that looks like and how to get there. ”

“I’ll take that.” It’s so much more than I deserve. It’s so much more than I’ve ever let myself want.

Coming out here wasn’t me. It was something else driving my steps, my words, my actions.

Not something ghostly or otherworldly. I don’t believe in that.

I’ll always feel Jack’s presence because I have our memories, but I don’t think he’s up somewhere looking down on me.

What the fuck do I know, though? I’m starting to realize it’s not much of anything.

I’ve always known to trust my gut, and it said something was up, and that’s why I came out here.

Might be that my eyes are open and I’m seeing things I was blind to before.

People say all sorts of things about death, but losing someone?

The one thing that’s true is that it’s a shock.

It wakes you the hell up and shakes you out of whatever stupor you didn’t even know you were living in.

“Okay.” Ginny nudges her black boot into the ground. “Okay then. I should probably get back inside.”

I nod, but can’t find anything else to say.

“I’m sorry about the hedge. And uh, the grass. And the sidewalk.”

“It’ll survive.”

“Okay,” she repeats, driving her toe even harder into the sidewalk. She mirrors my nod.

I’m the least timeline guy that ever existed, but I want to make things even more awkward by asking her if she’ll call me.

When. How long will it take her to decide how I can be helpful?

I’ve never been needy. I’ve always been a shit communicator at best, and this?

This feels like a relationship, no matter how irregular of one it might be.

A baby .

This woman is growing my brother’s child in her body.

That’s the relationship. That’s the tether.

If she allows it, I’ll always be connected to her.

That’s more than crazy. It’s nearly unfathomable.

This morning, I was mourning the loss of my brother, still in disbelief that he’s just gone , so thoroughly wounded that I wondered if I’d ever be able to take a breath again, and hours later, everything is different.

There’s hope. There’s Ginny, and there’s a baby.

I never wanted to be an uncle until I suddenly truly wanted it .

“I’ll see you around then,” Ginny says before she turns and walks up to the front door.

It’s usually locked, but not tonight. Wizard has cameras set up at the front, but that door also pretty much opens up right into the lounge where everyone is.

No one could enter or exit without being seen.

We wanted to keep that door open so anyone who knew my brother could drop in, have a drink, and send wishes of hope that there’s something after this and that it’s better.

The door bangs shut after Ginny, the sound echoing into the still, silent night.

I tilt my face up to the dark purple sky, bruised like my soul this past week, unhummable as explaining that ache inside of me, or thinking about what the future looks like as a single part of what should always have been a duo.

I squint against the heat gathering in my eyes again. It won’t break over me. I’ll control the storm. For now. For a minute. The next. The next. Until it passes.

“If you’re out there somehow, I just want you to know that it’s not better there.

It was good here. You were about to have everything.

Your life was so full. Just so you know, you’re a fucking idiot and I hate you for breaking your promise.

It was supposed to be me and you until the end.

This isn’t it. I’m still here and you’re- you’re nowhere.

That’s where you are. I’ll never forgive you for it. Fucking. Never.”

I stand there, breathing raggedly, muttering under my breath, hands clenched at my sides. I don’t feel any better for letting that out, probably because I know deep down, that I don’t mean half of it.